=====Author’s Note=====

I have spent a very long time writing this page, and while that is for a myriad of reasons, it would be dishonest to not admit that a part of it is because I know this means it will be over. The very thing that Anton feared for all his long, unhappy life will be here. The End. And there will be no going back. 

But if I sit on it — if I refuse to write — can Anton really be said to have died? Can the story really be said to have finished? There’s still too many questions. We never saw Anton interacting with the End, not like Geroi. How do we know that Anton didn’t have one final ace up his sleeve? One final Note to undo the damage that Eris and the others did to him? To go on living, the Antagonist in the dark, to keep the story and therefore the world alive forever? What if I just never confirm it? Is missing the final page of a story the same thing as it never ending? Or is all of this just the Anton in my head screaming at me, begging me, to not send him into the dark? 

I confess, I do not think that anyone deserves that fate. 

But I cannot betray the characters. The people of this world that saw Anton’s methods and said no. I have to respect the decisions they made, the ending they strove for, the winds that Anton sowed. Even if it means killing a character who has meant so much to me. 

So this is it, at last. Anton’s final moments, and then we’re done. You know how this ends. I think so does he. 

I just hope he doesn’t hate me for it. 

----

=====Stagnation=====

The Antagonist sits alone. 

Without a body, in the blackness of entropy, some part of his soul still feels that it is sitting, thinking. It is an act he is familiar with, and it brings him comfort, even as he knows nothing else can. 

He remembers. Every world he made. Every life he ended. All the ones he failed. He remembers awkward café interruptions and complaint letters and fighting last words. He remembers begged pleas over bodies and hate mail hand-delivered and burdens oh so briefly forgotten. He remembers seeing his friend dead, son’s blood joining father’s on his dripping hands, wondering when granddaughter’s would do the same. 

He remembers it all. It passes the time as he waits. Waits to be written out of existence forever. 

He doesn’t have to wait long. 

He does not stand, and he does not turn. He knows such things are meaningless in this subliminal place. But he speaks. “I know you.”

The void is silent. Infinite, and claustrophobic. But the Antagonist feels the absence and knows it like a forgotten memory. 

“You are the Villain.” 

The thing he has been fighting since the beginning. And now it is here. For him. For the world. For chocolate cake. 

He lost. 

“I could have saved them all.”

Meaningless. He cannot even save himself. 

It encroaches. The last moments. Final words? Worthless. Regrets? Thousands. Confessions? 

“I am afraid.” 

Why must he always face things sternly? Can’t he cower for once? Can’t he cry? Can’t he hurt, hurt, hurt? 

“It’s not fair.” 

It never is. Not for the Antagonist. 

And he plays his role too well. 

Until the End. 

“I am not sorry.”

His chin raises. He stands. His back is straight and his gaze is sharp. 

“I’m ready